The Straw that Broke the Camel's Back
by gaki 0
Summary: B/V: 3-yr Timeline. 3rd installment of 'Straws' series. Bulma has finally admitted the truth to herself, but that doesn't make dealing with the Saiyan Prince any easier. In this final installment, Bulma initiates 'Operation: Catch a Saiyan' and must find a way to survive the aftermath if she succeeds.
1. Maroned but not Stranded

Maroned but not Stranded

* * *

With delicacy Vegeta barely knew was possible his fingers dug into the creamy skin of her thighs. He looked down at her naked body as it enticingly arched towards him. Her breasts pushed against his broad chest; her legs wrapped around the narrowest part of his waist. He released an inadvertent noise of satisfaction at the movements of his beautiful host. He pulled his attention to her face. Her eyes implored him to please her; they demanded fulfillment. As he plunged into her, he watched her eyes melt into bliss before they rolled back and shut.

She enveloped him like warm rapids envelope a jutting rock. She bent his will with the same unbelievable strength that water has to shape the unyielding. His emotions rocketed into chaos, and he tried to reign in the feeling to a veneer of control. He cradled his face in between her neck and shoulder breathing deep breathes of her addictive smell. The sweet and yet sharp smell of ripened fruit and mechanical grease. She raked her fingers up his back and then rested them in his thick hair.

He began to move more slowly and more gently than he had ever before. He focused on every hitch in her breath, ever shudder of her body. Vegeta read her body and responded to its specific lexis. He was not trying to prove his worth; the consequences of failures did not haunt his actions. He merely felt in tune with her as they rocked together.

"Vegeta," she said softly in his ear as the headboard rapped lightly on the wall. He groaned in response and felt tingling growing and spreading from the base of his spine. He delved his hand into her waves of blue hair and reveled in the silk which tickled his fingers.

Gently, he continued his belabored and slow pace. He had never taken the time to cherish. Never allowed himself this indulgence. Within her, he felt absolute comfort. He felt unconditional love. He had found the home he had lost so long ago. A home where his failures were inconsequential; a home where his broken pieces were melded.

"Vegeta," she said again with concern. He looked to her blushing face and brought his lips down upon hers. They moved in unison. Each flicker of his tongue was matched by her. Each pivot of his hips brought hers to rock against him rhythmically. He allowed himself another grunt of satisfaction. He ran his hand along the curve of her hips, to the narrow of her waist and then up her back to rest along the base of her skull. He felt goosebumps form on her velvety skin.

He chuckled deeply in her ear and delved even deeper within her. He paused with eyes clenched and remained motionless as she entirely engulfed him. Overwhelmed, he embraced her tightly as she began to rhythmically contract around him.

"Vegeta," she said again but this time with annoyance. He looked at her as her face morphed from satisfaction to irritation. His subconscious came to life as he tortuously began to relive his past failures: defeated by a third class and then robbed of his revenge. The Prince of Saiyans apparently satisfied with his existence on the peaceful planet. Her smug face as she told him she hadn't been pleased by him. His tears before death.

* * *

Vegeta woke glossed in sweat, breathing in deep husky breathes and twisted around his sheets. He turned over to face his ceiling and grimaced at his excitement. He looked around his dark room in irritated uncertainty. He was alone; there was no woman. He brought a hand to his head and roughly raked his fingers through his course hair. This merely brought a poor imitation of the flood of pleasure that shot through his body when she had done the same in his dream. He cursed his imagination and then moved on to curse its architect. For weeks, the woman had been prancing around the home in provocative attire. She would bend to his will with uncharacteristic zeal. He couldn't help but imagine more.

His head snapped to the door as he heard her exasperated voice, "Listen, I'm just gonna come in." He raised his lip in irritation, pulled his body to a sitting position and drew the sheet to cover his still bulging shorts. As soon as she opened the door, the tantalizing smell hit him: freshly cooked meat, assorted fruits and sugary sweat desserts. She wheeled the cart next to his bed and looked at him with concern. He scowled at her as she ran her eyes down his bare chest and back to his face. "Are you okay?" her voice was riddled with worry.

"Of course," he said angrily as he reached for a plate of food.

She raised an eyebrow and retorted, "Well, you don't look okay." Her low shorts stretched across her curvy hips exposing each creamy white hipbone. His eyes paused there a moment and then returned to his plate.

He baited her in a monotone. "Sure I don't." The woman had become increasingly easy to fluster since he had blown up the gravity room. The cause wasn't clear but the result was entertaining.

Her cheeks blushed prettily but she pushed through the embarrassment. "You're covered in sweat." She paused and raised a hand to touch his forehead. "Do you have a fever?" Before she could feel if he was overheated, he growled at her and batted away her hand. She pursed her lips and said, "You know, even tough guys can get sick."

"Not this one." He began neatly but ferociously shoveling food into his mouth. She remained by him practically dripping with concern. He glared at her and between mouthfuls said, "Leave." In the past this tactic would result in quick abandonment or an entertaining fight, but the woman remained near him deep in thought. She stared at him blankly as he ate.

Bulma licked her lips and then slowly began, "You know." She looked away to the corner of his bed, "you really should give your body time to recover." She then dragged her eyes across his chest again. "You look thinner than usual."

He narrowed his eyes at her. He didn't relish her attention and least of all for that attention to result in anxiety about his health. He was training at the same level he had before he had been transported to the peaceful planet. He had no intention of allowing himself to be softened by its comforts. "Woman," he started in a deep voice. She blinked expectantly and locked her eyes with his. "Get out!"

She swallowed and sagged in defeat. Then releasing a sigh, she turned and exited his room.

Trying to shake his attractive host had proven to be barely possible. If she wasn't haunting him physically, then his mind would compensate for her disappearance. It was proof to the Saiyan that he had allowed himself too many liberties with the woman. Whatever result she was trying to gain with her attempts, he wouldn't let them come to fruition.

* * *

As she leaned into the door, Bulma quietly shut it behind her. Falling in love with Vegeta seemed to be such an impossible thing. She was beginning to excuse her feelings as Stockholm syndrome. The Saiyan did practically keep her imprisoned with his equipment needs.

A rush of excitement ran up her body as the thought of being Vegeta's captive entered her thoughts. Bulma bit her lip and looked down at the carpet in defeat. She had been trying to gain his attention since her realization. But it was almost as if now that she had the intent to attract him, she had lost her novelty to him. She had become either a nuisance or a slave to the Saiyan.

Bulma wondered if she was being too obvious. She eagerly submitted to his wishes, dressed prettily everyday and tried to be around him during the seldom moments that he emerged from the gravity room. She shook her head at her actions. That path was only causing him to ridicule her and take advantage of her immediate acquiesce to his every wish.

For example, she had just brought him breakfast in bed! She looked down at her watch. Around noon her house guest had sauntered into the kitchen. He maintained this strut of strength by his will alone. With sunken eyes and a bruised, shaky frame, he had told her to have food prepared in three hours. Vegeta had given up keeping normal hours after the gravity room catastrophe. Only a few days prior, Bulma had actually set an alarm for the middle of the night to bring him his food.

She removed herself from the door and walked towards the kitchen. Upon entering, her mother cheerful face accosted her.

"Well?" she asked with childlike anticipation.

Bulma sighed at her mother's hopeful face. "It's not working Mom." She sat down at the table and watched as her mom poured a glass of lemonade. "I think I should just let nature take its course." Bulma looked down at the table and began to trace the wood grain with a neatly manicured finger.

"Don't be silly. Bulma, you've always gotten what you wanted." She winked at her daughter as she sat down a glass in front of her. "Just be patient, my dear."

As soon as Bulma had admitted to herself that she had fallen for their vertically challenged houseguest, her mother caught on immediately. Apparently, years of watching soap operas had trained a keen eye on such subjects. Secretly, Bulma thought her mother was living vicariously through her actions. But it was nice to have her mother in her proverbial corner when dealing with such an impossible task. She smiled thankfully to her mother and said, "Sure."

Bulma was beginning to feel less and less like herself and more like a downtrodden lover or beaten housewife. She needed exposure to actual society. She hadn't seen Yamcha since Vegeta had nearly died, and she couldn't even remember the last time she had seen Goku. She needed an event that would bring them all together for a fun time. Like a Barbeque.

As soon as the idea entered her mind, she knew it was perfect. With a brightened face, she addressed her mom. "Let's have a party, Mom!"

"That's a great idea, sweety."

* * *

Under the unrelenting pressure of increased gravity, Vegeta finally felt more at ease. He struggled to breathe evenly. Each movement took all of his attention. His mind wondering would cause devastating results.

He savored this total immersion. Privately, he would admit that he owed the woman for the tranquility the room gave him. He reproachfully laughed to himself. The woman had supplied two of the three methods where he had ever found this level of engagement. He curled his lip as his earlier dream came back to him.

It had all been so consuming: her surreal velvety skin, her soft noises of pleasure, his unrelenting attention to her. _A dream_, he told himself. He would never concede that amount of himself to any one, let alone that woman.

He suddenly found himself bent on one knee as a blast reflected off a bot onto his shin. Cursing his inattention, he struggled to a standing position and continued his routine. Lifting into the air, he released a whirlwind of ki balls and prepared himself for their inevitable return.

In a flourish of movement, he expertly dodged each blast. He bent his body elastically, he absorbed with bold vigor, he overcame the unremitting pain.

The woman would never give him this level of satisfaction. She could never claim this level of fervent consideration, although she would try.

* * *

He internally groaned at the display that met him upon entering the kitchen. The woman had perched herself atop the family's table with her legs dangling with childlike anticipation. Her legs seemed to never end but when they eventually did, it was into the mysterious darkness under her skirt. Vegeta could clearly see the inside of her thighs begin to taper in until they were obscured by darkness.

His sleep deprived eyes continued their journey to her exposed stomach. Her silhouette narrowed to a slim waist which his fingers itched to encircle. Her rib cage expanded dramatically and he heard the cause in her deep, shaky breaths.

His attention flicked to her small top. It resembled the human's version of bathing attire but the material was different. Thin and on the verge of transparency, he detected the slight protrusions of her erect nipples.

Then he heard her giggle a hello. His eyes snapped to hers and he let out a warning growl. It was clear she was seeking attention, and he was anxious at being her target. Yes, she had attracted his eyes before, but never with such blatant effort.

"How did you sleep?" Her head was innocently cocked to the side. Her hair had been relaxed from its bird's nest and fell swooping to one side. His finger tingled in anticipation of touching her blue locks. Were they really as soft as they looked?

He grimaced and stalked to his chair beside her. Food had already been laid out in preparation for his feast. He forced his eyes to remain steadily on the plate before him and not on the swiveling body beside him. Even with his supreme control, he couldn't ignore the creamy thigh next to his plate. The way her skirt sat neatly splayed out while her skin lay directly on the cold wood table. The way tiny goose bumps materialized and begged to be soothed by his hot hands.

Her hand came down next to her thigh as her body bent down to address him more directly. "Not good, huh?" she said with concern. Her bent frame gave him another vantage point which he took advantage of unwillingly. "I could help you with that," she added slyly.

His eyes flickered from the delicate slope of her breasts as they descended into a pronounced cleavage and to her playful face. He scowled at her with palpable anger at the interruption. He wasn't exactly sure whether he was angry at her interrupting his meal or his perusal of her body, but he was sure she would never know.

She rolled her eyes at his aggressive response. "You just need to relax," she began waving her hand in the air in a circular fashion. "Warm milk, a soak in the tub," she leaned in further and raised an eyebrow. "Extracurricular activities." Then she leaned away from him and threw her head back to laugh at her own quick wit.

"Leave my presence," his deep voice cut through her playful giggling. "You should be upgrading those pathetic training bots." He then brought his attention back to his food and began satiating his hunger.

He felt her eyes on him and trained his forward. But he begrudgingly noticed one creamy leg slide on top of the other. She then confidently said, "I am the one that had to replace this table because of your anger management issues." There was a pause during which he pushed aside an empty plate and claimed a full one. "I have more rights to this table than you do."

"I'll annihilate this table." He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of destroying another one of the family's belongings. Her reaction would surely be entertaining.

"Well," she answered confidently. "Not until you finish eating." There was an extended pause and then she slid from the table, walked behind him and leaned against the counter to his left. "You know," she began mockingly; "your threats are getting less intimidating." She pretended to be focused on her nails as she lifted up one foot to rest on the cabinet door behind her. She then coyly added, "Is the Prince softening?"

He abruptly stood from the cleared table and faced her. His fists automatically gripped at his sides as he testified against his own personal fear. "Never."

"That's good." She winked at him teasingly. "I like my Saiyan just the way he is."

Vegeta ignored her possessive wording. He closed the distance to her and questioned, "And how's that, woman."

She bit her lip and blushed slightly. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen her blush so visibly. Vegeta admitted that her automatic reaction to embarrassment was not unappealing. He looked to her insistingly, and her eyes fell to the floor at his direct stare.

* * *

His body suddenly felt like it was being propelled out of control. His shoulder was forced out of its socket as he slammed into a hard object. The center console gave way readily to his hard body and caused a high pitched whirling noise to blare into the room. The increased gravity came to an abrupt halt causing his body to soar into the ceiling and then plummet to the ground.

The bots danced around him sending beams of energy in his direction. He quickly threw his shoulder into the floor and forced it back into place with a sickening pop. With the searing pain from the bots raining upon his back, he raised himself on his hands and knees and pulled his body into a vertical position.

The woman was delaying his ascension. She shouldn't have this type of control over him. She had burrowed herself in his thoughts and clung to her position with unbelievable strength. There had to be a way to liberate himself from her constant presence. Rage overwhelmed him as he contemplated her intrusion in his life.

The air around him crackled in his fury. As he released his frustration vocally, a shock wave emitted from his body. The bots slammed against the walls of the gravity room. They tried to hold together desperately until they succumbed to his strength and returned to their individual parts.

He took deep, calming breaths and examined the damage of his tantrum. He refused to take the blame; the woman was at fault, and she would fix it.

* * *

Bulma shot up in bed in absolute fright at the jarring noise of her door slamming against the wall. She looked around her room frantically until her eyes came to rest on an angry and exhausted Sayian approaching her bed.

Her heart skipped a beat and her stomach began to flip. She felt the tingling sensation of a thick blush spreading up her neck to her face. She brought her thighs tight together as she began to feel her blood pulsing between them. She swallowed and concentrated on reality rather than what her mind was trying to interpret his actions as.

She cleared her throat and said, "What do you want?" She had wanted the statement to be firm and commanding, but it had eked out as both abashed and hopeful. She cleared her throat again and raised her chin in forced pride.

He stopped his approach and folded his arms across his chest. She couldn't help her eyes being drawn to her favorite arm muscle just below his shoulder as it protruded deliciously. He smirked at her attention and commandingly said, "My gravity room requires attention."

She had known the reason for his intrusion without needing an explanation, even though her imagination had attempted to dissuade her. She deflated and turned to look at her bedside clock. It read 3:36 am. An exhausted breath escaped her lungs, and she drearily rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Bulma turned away from him and pulling the cover over her chilled frame, she said, "I'll look at it in the morning." She then settled cozily into her warm bed and shut her eyes.

The sheets were ripped from her grasp and thrown to the floor. "No," he barked. "You will look at it now." He ended his statement in a roar.

Almost every fiber of her being wanted to obey him. Fear pushed her to comply and hope pressed her to please him. She fidgeted her feet and pulled her night gown down her thighs. Then setting her jaw, she drew back her shoulders and in small shakes, she shook her head. He merely glared back. Then raising her chin once again, she said, "Absolutely not."

He scoffed at her refusal as if it were futile. Before she could prepare herself, she was being hoisted out of bed by her arm and thrown over his shoulder. She screamed for him to put her down, but was ignored.

His firm grasp held the back of her thigh and tingling sprawled from that location up her body and down to her toes. She flushed as they careened down the hallway and her dress blew up to reveal her backside. She began beating on his back in anger and indignation. They quickly arrived in his gravity room and stopped in front of the main console.

He dragged one hand over her exposed butt and to her waist then wrapped his other warm hand on the other side of her waist. Bulma was sure that Vegeta knew exactly what effect this had on her body, but she refused to let the feeling take over her rage. He effortlessly swung her to stand in front of the sparking console and released her.

Bulma immediately repositioned her night gown to cover herself again. She turned quickly and reeled her arm back to slap him. As her hand approached his face, he grabbed her arm and twisted her around.

One hand held her arm behind her back and the other gripped the top of her hip. His fingers pressed firmly on the front of her hip bone. She attempted to twist and turn out of his grasp, but only succeeded in curling her body in awkward pain and being pulled flush against his solid frame. He held her facing the console, like a vise.

She felt his heated breath on her neck and froze. He huskily said, "Fix it." He chuckled as she shuttered in his grasp.

Shame overtook her at her body's betrayal. Above all else, she just wanted him to stop embarrassing her. "Fine," she spat out the word like poison. He released her and turned to leave the room. As he stepped away, her body chilled immediately. She crossed her hands over her chest, ran her hands along her arms and begrudgingly questioned, "What did you do to it?"

He stopped in the door frame and looking over his shoulder said, "You figure it out." Then he exited the room. She looked around at the scattered bit of metal and screws littering the floor. Bulma sighed and began pressing button on the console.

Two hours of exploration informed her of two things: a large object had crashed into the console and half the parts had to be replaced.

She trudged back to her room just as the sun began to brighten the sky. Her shuffling feet must have alerted him to her presence because he stood in the hallway blocking her path. He raised an eyebrow expectantly.

She sighed in exhaustion. "I had to order some parts." Anger began to grow on his face. Ignoring his reaction, she continued, "It will be down for a few days." Before his temper took control, her's escalated. "You should've been more careful!" She didn't care if she woke the whole household.

He attempted to intimidate her by taking a few steps in her direction and shouting, "I want it fixed by tomorrow!" Although he barely surpassed her height, he still glowered down at her.

Bulma wrinkled her face in anger. "Too bad," she said in determination. Then she demonstratively ran her eyes down his frame, but on their journey back up, her eyes softened slightly. "You need the break anyway."

"I most definitely do not need a break!"

Her anger defused, and she crookedly smiled. "We're having a cook out tomorrow," a yawn broke up her sentence. She brought her hand to her mouth and shut her eyes as she gave into her exhaustion. She then dragged her hand down her neck to her back where she rubbed roughly. She blinked tiredly and invitingly said, "You should come."

Vegeta curled his lip but begrudgingly accepted the incapacitation of his training tool. He allowed her to skirt around him and shuffle back into her room.

* * *

The sleep interruption created an exhausted and easily frustrated Bulma to the next morning. She willed herself to be welcoming and reign in her temper for the party. So far, she had accomplished her task.

She had spent the first half of the party lounging by the pool and listening to Chi-Chi complain about her angelic husband. She watched as Goku, Krillin and Gohan undertook some serious horseplay in the pool. She tried to laugh cheerfully as Yamcha defended an oblivious Maron from Roshi's band of perverts. She also tried to squish the disappointment while watching Vegeta train alone next to his broken gravity room.

But the smell of food had begun to drift through the air. And seeing a salivating Goku hovering over her father, Bulma felt it necessary to retrieve the other Saiyan before all the food was gone. He had left his previous spot and knowing that there were only three locations where the man could possibly be, she set out in search of him.

Entering an empty kitchen, Bulma relinquished her hostess behavior. She couldn't believe the audacity of Yamcha. Bringing Maron to her party was like a slap in the face to poor Krillin. It wasn't that she was jealous of the younger and arguably prettier bluehead, she was merely concerned about her bald friend. Or at least that's what she told herself.

She stomped up the stairs each footfall louder and harder than the last. And then the little ditz had the nerve to call the heiress an 'old lady.' The younger woman wore small triangles which barely contained her breasts and the thinnest piece of string to cover her lower regions.

Bulma had enough class to not wear something so revealing, but that didn't mean she was old. _You are thirty_, Bulma thought in the back of her mind. Then she couldn't help but remember the little numbers she had been strutting around the house in lately. _That's different_, she argued with herself. Her teeth ground together as she took her frustration out on each sequential stair.

But, Bulma had to admit that she hadn't put too much effort in her appearance today. That morning, she decided that she would give herself a reprieve from 'Operation: Catch a Saiyan' and just enjoy the day with her friends. Much to her mother's dismay, she had opted for the boyish T-shirt and shorts look rather than her typical tight and tiny look. So compared to her normal appearance, she looked almost ordinary. _But not old_, she told herself.

Bulma noticed something was out of place when she entered the upstairs hallway: Vegeta's door was open. The man always kept his door shut. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She approached the door wearily, hoping that the man hadn't finally succumbed to the relentless bodily exertion he imposed on himself. She held her breath and prepared herself to see his collapsed body. Then she heard the abrupt sound of water shutting off. She quickened her pace slightly while recovering from her temporary fear.

Smiling awkwardly at her imagination, she approached the doorway. Bulma opened her mouth to speak, but then quickly shut it as she heard the seductive voice of Maron, "Hey there, Big Guy."

An indescribable amount of anger rushed through Bulma's veins. She could feel it tingling up her face, at the tip of her fingers, and deep in her stomach. She rounded the corner of his door frame with every intention to murder.

Sprawled across his bed was the barely clad form of Yamcha's new girlfriend. Bulma whipped her head towards the adjoining bathroom where Vegeta stood in the doorway with a towel wrapped tightly around his waist. His face was void of emotion as he assessed the room with his eyes. She watched as his eyes left hers in distain and then looked to the woman draped across his bed.

Bulma hadn't expected the overwhelming sadness to engulf her. She had expected her anger to stay intact. She cursed herself as she felt her eyes begin to water. She clenched her jaw and tried to pull on a mask of indifference.

"Do you mind, Old Lady?"

Maron's voice triggered something inside Bulma. She suddenly felt completely out of control. Like she wanted to cry and scream at the same time. Bulma took a long breath through her nostrils. As her lungs expanded, her eyes narrowed to tiny slits of hatred. She saw nothing but the bimbo trying to entice Vegeta. She felt like a child unable to grapple her emotions properly.

Maron stood up and sauntered towards the towel clad Saiyan. Still addressing Bulma she said, "I don't know how you get all these men," Maron placed a hand on his sculpted arm. She received a minuscule flinch in return and Vegeta's dark emotionless gaze returned to Bulma. "But I should hangout around you more often," Maron ended as she batted her long eyelashes at the man.

Bulma's eyes were fixated on their skin to skin contact. She dragged her eyes away from the girl's hand and directed her scowl to Maron's seemingly innocent eyes. Maron pulled a leg up to caress his shin and looked at Bulma out of the corner of her eye with a devilish smirk.

Bulma resentfully replied, "He doesn't like sluts!" After saying the words that she thought would be cathartic or at least hurtful, Bulma felt extremely foolish. She looked down at the floor and thought of how she had been unable to capture the prince's attention.

He reminded her of such as he angrily and shouted, "You don't know what I want, Woman"

Maron giggled and teasingly said, "Burned."

Bulma forced her shoulders up in a sign of nonchalance and petulantly said, "Fine, take her."

"I don't need your permission, woman." Vegeta's voice had gone husky.

Maron heard the change and smiling indulgently, she drew a hand to Vegeta's chiseled abs. He stood motionless with his fists clenched to his side. Vegeta stared at Bulma defiantly until she turned and left from the room.

Slamming her door, she crashed down on her bed in a suffocating bout of tears. She had never been so shamed in her life. She had been replaced by a younger model. She had indeed lost her attractiveness to the irritable Saiyan.

Bulma gripped her sheets tightly and clenched her teeth as her sadness began to transform into resolved anger. _I'll show him what he's missing!_ she thought to herself evilly. And then she began to convince herself that the one and only Bulma Briefs would completely overshadow her rival.

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading. I would love to hear from you.


	2. Cut You Out

Cut You Out

* * *

After his hostess left, Vegeta looked to the woman attempting to wrap herself around him. His face was cold and unaffected. The weakling male's stench mixed with the sharp smell of artificial blooms and drifted around him. He wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant smell. He had originally thought that he would enjoy playing with the attractive young woman, but after she approached, his plans were beginning to change.

Maron stroked his broad chest with the tip of one finger, circling a trail around his pectoral muscle. She reached behind her neck with her other hand and tugged on the bikini string there. Her top folded down her breasts to revel her pert pink nipples. Looking up at him through her lashes, she licked her lips slowly before speaking in a sultry voice. "I just wanna eat you up."

He raised an eyebrow at her aggressive sexual advances. If her smell wasn't enough to completely dissuade him, her blatant forwardness did. She left absolutely nothing mysterious. He hadn't realized how much he had enjoyed the excited but nervous actions of the other blue haired woman. As he thought of the more enticing woman, he was reminded of their night together.

He remembered her apprehension mingled with fear. It was an absolute rush for the headstrong woman to show such uneasiness around him. The fact that he had broken her to such a state only led to raise his excitement tenfold. Her body was shrouded by a thin, smooth material which both hid and exposed her body. He could see the outline of her breasts, imagine the hollow of her belly button, and trace the outline of her delicate body. He remembered her silent please for him to be gentle. He admitted to himself that it had been the most exhilarating sexual experience of his life.

Looking at Maron's perversely exposed breasts and openly expectant face. His found that his excitement was completely absent. He thought further about her presence in his chambers. He wasn't meticulously selected by her. She hadn't been fighting her attraction and eventually caved in to his undeniable magnetism. He merely met the undiscerning criteria of an easy woman. His lip curled in disgust.

Vegeta bent towards her ear and his voice rumbled deeply in his chest. "The woman was correct." He grabbed the look-a-like's arm and roughly pushed her across his room. Her eyes widened in surprise and, she nearly tripped over her own feet as he led her unceremoniously to the door. He shoved her out of his room and continued, "Sluts disgust me." He released her arm as if it were poison and shut the door on her confused face.

He told himself he hadn't turned her down because of her inferiority to another. He just didn't need another infatuated earthling getting in the way of his training regimen. His insufferable housemate had already taken too much of a toll on his training immersion.

He also told himself that the only reason he had compared the two was because he needed more time to forget his dream. And last night's abduction hadn't helped that effort. Seeing her nighttime attire and her obvious reactions to him had nearly pushed the man to act.

He was hopeful that his apparent interest in another would be enough to dissuade the woman's interest. That it would convince the woman to finally leave him in 'peace.' He pulled on his shorts, opened his window and made his way to the pungent smell of food.

The larger Saiyan was already circling the Briefs man with ravenous eyes. The old man greeted Vegeta and informed him that he was told to wait for Vegeta to arrive until he allowed the other Saiyan to eat. Vegeta grimaced at the woman's act of concern.

The doctor smiled at his reaction, the curve of his lips barely visible underneath his thick mustache. Then he left them to sit by the pool and eat his own lunch.

Vegeta piled his plate high, sat in a chair near the grill and began eating just as ferociously albeit neater than his counterpart. He ignored the small talk that had begun to fill the air around the grill. His proximity to the food supply was worth their mindless chatter. But, he couldn't help but overhear some of the dialogue.

The woman's ex-mate was receiving complements on the attractiveness of his new girlfriend. Vegeta had seen the woman before today. She had already caused quite an entertaining stir with the resident woman, and he looked forward to another amusing display.

Vegeta stole a quick glance at the woman of discussion. She had all the physical attributes of his hostess. To her advantage, her breasts appeared to be larger, and she claimed better musculature. Usually Vegeta would have preferred the more physically capable woman, but there was an obvious gap in their intellect. He watched as the woman idly splashed her hands into the chemically laced water as if she were discovering gravity for the first time. Yes, there was a definite and overwhelmingly triumphant disadvantage.

As if commentating the Saiyan's thoughts, the perverted old man highlighted her attributes. Of course, the human completely ignored the blaring fact that the woman was of feeble mind. The other males agreed with his physical summations and occasionally chimed in with their own observations. Vegeta was beginning to feel like he was back among Frieza's low class soldiers.

It was inevitable that the men would soon begin to compare the two blue haired women. Internally, Vegeta scoffed at the idea of comparing the two once again. It was obvious: one was useless and the other had many utilities. And the fact that the girl was with the human weakling revolted Vegeta. He didn't allow himself to remember that the woman had also been with the weakling, and he hadn't thought her to be revolting then.

While rising to refill his plate, he heard the pervert say with great anticipation, "Let the competition begin."

Vegeta looked up and saw the woman emerging from the house. She was now wearing what the human's ridiculously called a bathing suit and was sauntering out like she ruled the world. Each step was commanding. Before he could stop himself, he thought of how she would make an impressive queen. He quickly ran through each of her faults with each burger he piled on his plate: human, weak, emotional, noisy, and demanding.

Vegata's tirade was interrupted as the pervert continued his dialogue, "I think she's jealous, Yamcha. You sure you don't want her back?"

Sneering at the old man, Vegeta caught Yamcha's eyes focused on him. He raised a lip towards the human who immediately broke the eye contact. He sat down again and focused his attention back to his food.

After a few bites, he couldn't help his eyes from being drawn to the pool. An increased amount of noise had begun to come from the area. The circle of banter that had formed around the food had now moved to duo of wet, attractive women in the pool. Squeals of excitement and playful laughs of victory issued from the water.

Each of the blue haired women sat on the shoulders of a human male. Their hands were locked together as they pushed and pulled in an attempt to dethrone the other. Vegeta was inadvertently pleased by this primal display.

Allowing his mind to wonder, he was reminded of something Nappa had once told him. A Saiyan woman would often fight for the affections of their mate, sometimes even killing their rivals. Vegeta doubted that this 'battle' would lead to death, but could easily imagine them wrestling for his attention. He chuckled at the futility of the situation. He had no intentions of bedding either woman.

"You should join them," his fellow Saiyan cheerfully said. "Bulma's a lot of fun when she's like this."

"Shut up, Kakarot!" Vegeta looked away from the display and took a large, satisfying bit of his burger.

As he bit into his soft and juicy burgers, his eyes were automatically drawn back to the two women. He couldn't agree with the old pervert, there was no competition.

Vegeta wasn't sure if any woman from this pathetic race would be able to compete. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that his hostess has been the only woman, much less human, to tempt him to this degree. She was also the only woman to reject him, the only woman to stand up to him, and she was the only woman to have any use other than sex.

No other earthling could have forced him into his current predicament. If it were possible, he would admit that he respected her for the courage and determination she had displayed. But he only acknowledged that she was hazardous for him. The woman had him to the point where he needed her.

At first it was just the gravity room. The training equipment she provided was like a drug to the battle hungry Saiyan. Even if he beat both his docketed adversaries, he would still crave the room. He would never find a more intensive training regime.

This fact alone worried the Saiyan. He would never again be satisfied unless she was at his side upgrading his equipment. He feared being tied to the peaceful planet, but that was not the biggest threat to retaining his training schedule. Her dedication to advancing his battle prowess had to remain her main priority after the android threat was gone.

Their previous deal had been perfectly conceptualized. She wouldn't be lonely, and he would have his training gear. His training the night of their assignation he had been extremely satisfying. His ability to focus undistracted by his expectations had been surprising. His whole life had been clouded by the need to gain strength and his single-minded focus on revenge. That night he had been able to train because he loved it not because he had to. And for the first time, he had something to anticipate other than training and battles. But it turns out the woman wanted more.

She wanted him to care. And what he feared even more than losing his gravity room or settling on the planet was that he wanted to oblige her. It would make things so simple for the Saiyan Prince. She would be tied to him and therefore obligated to work on his training equipment. But the woman was constantly pushing his limit.

Vegeta had felt more pain in his attempts to learn to care than he had his entire life. He had never before allowed anyone past his barrier of defense. This barrier had kept him safe during the sharpest of trials. Being traded to Frieza by his father, having his entire race slaughtered and dying at the hands of his lifelong torturer had been inconsequential when compared to the betrayal he felt when the gravity room exploded.

Not only would caring cause him pain, but welcoming anyone into his life opened himself up to an offensive attack. He would not allow his enemies an opportunity to take advantage of his attachments. This was a life lesson he had learned very early in life. And she had done little to prove the worth of caring over his need for self preservation.

But apart from being captured by the gravity room, her presence was something he found himself seeking. He would track her energy signal when he let his mind wonder. He would demand that she fix his broken training gear rather than her father. This would give him both a verbal sparring session and the alluring smell of his hostess while training.

She had slowly etched herself into his everyday life, and he could barely imagine her not present in it.

Vegeta glared at the battling woman with intense heat. He had let her get away with too much. There had to be a way to permanently cut her out.

* * *

They all watched, entertained by the two women's display. Cheered and laughed as the combatant's hands locked together. But the playful pool game was completely different to the two women.

Bulma's eyes were on fire as she glared at Maron. Bulma had been practically begging for the attention that Maron had plucked with ease. She didn't want to imagine what other woman had over her, but it was too easy for the thoughts to leak into her brain: she was younger, more flirtatious, not emotional. And Bulma guessed Maron only wanted a 'no strings attached' fling. She clenched her teeth; she knew Vegeta would prefer that type of non-relationship.

At first Maron hadn't understood that Bulma was angry, but that quickly changed when Bulma gripped her hands. Her nails dug into the other girl's knuckles. The older woman bared her teeth and sneered as she pushed and tugged the girl.

Yamcha neck was practically being squeezed off as Maron tightened her thighs. She twisted her hands in an attempt to swing the woman off her perch. Her breasts bobbled dangerously which created anticipatory breaths from the onlookers.

After she left his room in a bout of tears, Bulma didn't know what had occurred. She did know that whatever happened was quick but given her past experience, that didn't mean nothing happened. She hoped Vegeta had tossed her aside, and that he had unleashed his vicious tongue on the dimwit. She hoped that at least Maron had been unsatisfied and abandoned after Vegeta was done with her.

That would be just in Bulma's mind. Then she caught herself, she could barely believe her childish behavior. She had refused to stoop so low as to act this way about Yamcha. Yet here she was, physically fighting Maron because of her jealousy. She was willing to bet Vegeta was enjoying the show.

Bulma flashed her eyes in the direction of the grill. His dark eyes were glued to the battle. Then it hit her. And she didn't have to imagine the mirth that danced across his distant face, the small smirk that was drawn on his lips. She knew it was there. She knew this was just another opportunity he saw to toy with his hostess.

She looked back to the scrunched up face of Maron, smiled ironically and let the younger girl dethrone her.

With an ungraceful splash, Bulma fell backwards. Water went up her nose and burned her sinuses. Her hair floated around her ethereally as she descended deeper into the water. She opened her eyes and saw the bottom halves of Tein and Yamcha in the bright glow of the pool water. She spread out her arms and legs, twirled right side up and swam to the deeper end of the pool.

Skirting to the bottom of the pool, she skimmed just above the rough concrete. Bulma reveled in the submerged feeling; the immediate distance that she felt from the ridiculous happenings above the water.

What did she have to be jealous of? She was beautiful, rich and a genius. And Vegeta was just a sadistic fool who was either inept or unwilling to please anyone in any avenue. She couldn't imagine anyone possessing him through his cognitive assent.

Then she realized the stark truth. Whether the man was 'hers' didn't affect the majority of the enjoyment she received from him.

Their wills would clash no matter the status of their relationship. He couldn't help but argue with her. He would continue to strut about the household barely clothed. It was almost as if the man had never heard of modesty. And his need for constant advancements to his training equipment would always test her mind. She was sure he would never relinquish the room even after the androids.

Bulma had no reason to be jealous. The man had already proven that he was incapable of emotional attachment. And if he were capable, she was sure that the relationship would form around her and not around some temporary floozy in his life.

She had been wrong about the whole situation. She wouldn't have to convince him to stay on Earth; there was no way the man would leave his precious gravity room. And it was only a matter of time before he would bend to her will. Her mother was right. Bulma always got what she wanted.

Coming up from the water was a breath of fresh air, both physically and mentally. Bulma felt in control again. She no longer felt powerless as she had the past few weeks. Smirking arrogantly at her situation, she dipped her head backwards allowing her hair to slick along her skull. The games were over, Bulma felt as if she had already won. Now all she had to do was make Vegeta realize it.

She turned around to face her previous opponent and ducked back under the water. Her slivery form could be seen by the onlookers outside of the water. They attempted to warn Yamcha of his impending doom, but it was too late.

She had already grabbed an ankle and with a decisive tug the tower of Maron came tumbling down into the water. Bulma emerged from the water and laughed brilliantly. She swam to the edge of the pool and dragged herself out.

Hearing the sputtering breaths of her previous foes, she bent down towards them and gave them a mocking wink. Then reaching into a cooler, she retrieved an ice cold beer. As the liquid slid down her throat, she relished the chill it created.

With great confidence, she swiveled to look at the grill. Goku waved frantically with an engaging smile, and Vegeta quickly directed his attention to his plate.

Her hips swayed playfully as she approached the two Saiyans. The motions were lost on the younger male, but not on the elder. Vegeta's eyes were drawn like a magnet that he fought with little success. They burned with hunger. The look caused her stomach to tighten in appreciation.

She knew he couldn't deny her appeal. She was wearing a bathing suit, she was wet and she had started to drink alcohol. Any one of the trifecta had gained considerable attention from the Saiyan in the past. She didn't have to try hard to convince herself that she was undeniable.

Bulma quickly diverted her attention from the brooding Saiyan to the cheerful one. She lifted one knee, shot a hand in the air and struck a victory pose. "Bulma Briefs, victorious again!"

He laughed jubilantly. "Yeah," he agreed happily. "You showed them."

Bulma had forgotten how wonderful it was to be around Goku. He was always happy and supportive. She had known him for so long and had probably taken for granted his kindness. She guessed that it just took living with an absolute jerk for her to truly appreciate her best friend.

"Aw Goku, I've really missed you." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the disgusted look on Vegeta's face. She turned to him with self-assured hands on her hips and asked, "What do you think?" She smirked playfully and tilted her head questioningly. "Are my moves good enough to take down the tough Saiyan Prince?"

Vegeta raised his lip and grumbled, "Barely." His body language shouted discomfort and annoyance.

Bulma chuckled at his mood. "Aw, what's wrong Vegeta?" She teased the tense man in a sing-song voice. "Why so gumpy?"

Vegeta bristled at her taunting. Bulma knew this look well: it said 'leave me alone.' He didn't like their familiarity being displayed to others. But unfortunately for the man, she was no longer catering to his ego.

She flashed him a seductive look and dropped her voice an octave. "You aren't jealous, are you?" She took a few steps towards him and bent down to eyelevel with the seated man. "You want me to knock you down a few pegs, too?" she asked in mock innocence.

She smirked as his eyes were momentarily caught by her dangling breasts. They then returned to her eyes with frustrated anger. "Woman," he said warningly.

She stood up straight as both arms flew into the air. "Congratulations!" she cheered. Then pointing a finger at him, she continued, "You finally learned the difference."

He stood up and swatted her finger away swiftly. Then, hands clenched at his sides, he growled, "You know damn well I know the difference."

"Oh," Bulma dragged a finger to rest on her lower lip. Then winking, she goaded him, "Care to tell me how I would know this?" He was close enough to her that she could feel the heat emanating from his body. Small butterflies began to flutter in her stomach. She really did enjoy arguing with him.

He scowled at her and barked, "I don't have time for this, woman." He did a quarter turn but before he could finish his rant, Bulma interrupted him.

"I have to train." She dropped her voice to imitate his deep, raspy voice.

He looked at her skeptically before finishing his turn and returning to train beside his broken gravity room. She laughed with thorough enjoyment and skipped back to the pool.

* * *

Vegeta didn't make it back to his refuge before he took to the sky in aggravation. His attempt to rid himself of the flirtatious woman had backfired. She seemed to have some new lease on life. Before she had teased him almost unknowingly, then she flirted cautiously, now she openly taunted him.

What was worse, she did so in front of her measly humans. It ground against his nerves to have her mock him in front of his rival. He would find a way to rid her once and for all. Her attachment was truly becoming dangerous.

He spent hours trying to meditate in solitude. He tried the oxygen deprived heights of snow capped mountains, undiscovered caves deep in the ocean and intensely hot sand deserts. As suspected, none of them provided the mental release and physical exertion of his gravity room.

He landed on the soft Capsule Corporation grass after nightfall. The guests had finally vacated his home. He scanned the area for her ki and surprisingly discovered the women in his training sanctuary.

With silent footsteps, he approached her. The console had been returned to its original cylindrical shape. She sat on the floor pressing buttons on a small machine in her lap. She was completely oblivious to his presence.

From previous experience, he knew she was in the finishing stages of fixing the room. He sat down near the wall. With one leg stretched along the cool tile and the other pulled close to his body, he watched her progress.

During his observations she went through a gambit of emotions from the joys of success to the agony of failures and seemingly every stage in between. He despised the way her feelings were always on full display. He considered it obscene and looked away in annoyance.

"Ow." Her surprised voice bounced off the walls.

He looked to see her shaking her hand next to exposed circuitry as it sparked. The colors played on her face gracefully. They accentuated the curve of her slender neck. He watched as her pulse throbbed rhythmically along her soft skin.

Catching himself, he diverted his stare. Her weakness was delaying his ascension. He had never catered to such a deficiency before. Why had he started with her? He could have been using his strength to compel her, but it wasn't needed. She wanted to assist his ascension, but only because she needed his help defeating the tin cans.

His lack of brute force had led her to believe he was soft. His actions had mistaken her enough to lead her to think he liked her. Or at least that he could learn to appreciate her.

It was all clear now. The woman had broken off her arrangement with the weak human. She was constantly buzzing around him like an errant gnat. Exposing her flesh and inciting his carnal mind. Earlier in the day, she acted like she owned him. He was not some human's pet. He would also not be some project for her.

He stood to leave the room quietly. Her mere presence was angering him.

* * *

Bulma closed the small door on the console near the floor of the gravity room. She stood up and looked at her burnt ring finger. The shock had blackened the tip of her finger, and it was stinging incessantly. With her other hand, she bundled together her supplies and exited the room.

The air had become cool and a gentle breeze topped off the perfect night. She took a deep breath and looked up at the night's sky. To Bulma's disappointment hardly any stars were visible. Maybe she was due for a trip, a nice vacation away from the city. Smiling at the idea, she began lazily walking to the back door of her home.

She stopped when she noticed her houseguest. Vegeta was leaning against the side of her home. Sitting on the grass with his legs stretched out before him, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and his head lulled slightly back against the outer wall of her house. He appeared to be sleeping. Sleep was overdue for the stubborn man, and she was thankful that he had finally complied with his need. Trying to be quiet, she continued on her path but couldn't take her eyes off the unconscious man.

She loved how his face was more relaxed when he slept. It was almost like he had lived a normal life and not one of a tortured mercenary. She found herself wishing she could have met that Vegeta as well. What he would have been like if Frieze had never existed. Would he have been kinder and more trusting? Or more pompous and less accepting? She shook her head. _He would still be a jerk_, she thought to herself.

Vegeta wore the same the same tight black shorts he seemed to live in. She internally chuckled as she remembered her earlier thought about his lack of modesty. But Bulma had to admit, she didn't mind that character flaw.

Bulma bit her lip guiltily as her eyes were drawn to his body. He was a very compact man. Each muscle on his chiseled body had a purpose and was tightly wound like a spring. His muscles were strung together like a collection of steel cables and when he moved, it was as if the cables were being strapped across a hard surface.

Bulma felt an immediate desire to run her hands over the contours of his arm. Starting from his bicep, she would slowly twist her hand up to the back of his shoulder. Her fingers would skim over his shoulder blade and the dig into the muscle along his spine. She would relish in the miniscule shiver that would overcome him, the power that she held to loosen his firm grasp of control.

Bulma looked sideways and smiled coyly at her imagination. Looking back to him, she marveled at his perfect proportions. No one would guess that he was short from a distance. And his height had actually become a feature she liked in the cocky man. From her height, she could easily see the restrained emotions in his eyes. And his height didn't make her a feel like a delicate woman like it did with Yamcha. Because how she felt around Vegeta was not derived from a measurable quality like height.

This brought her to his second and powerfully alluring characteristic. He was intense, the most intense person she had ever known. She had seen others shrink when subjected to his passionate air. He challenged her with just his mere presence. When he entered a room, she could feel her body begin to automatically fight his domineering aura. His words could be caustic, and his body could be lethal. Even in his sleep he exuded his devastating potential.

She began to wonder about his previous relationships. Had other women been attracted to him for the same reasons? His raw nature was an absolute thrill to her, but then his comrades probably had a similar roughness.

She shook her head slowly. Vegeta would stand out no matter his crowd. His presence was absolutely electric. A small shiver slipped up her spine as she thought of his deep black eyes: cold, calculating and yet so passionate. Sometimes his control would slip, and she could read emotions flitting across his eyes. It was like an eruption which would snap into existence before being reeled back into submission. She wondered if she was the first to notice.

Whether he admitted it or not, he had softened since being revived. She remembered the maniacal raw Vegeta that had first come to earth. He had been willing to kill his comrade, a child and anyone that would get in his way. Bulma doubted he would jump to murder so quickly now.

Bulma thought the transformation was partially because after his death he was lost. His purpose had been taken away from him. Bulma admitted that this vulnerability also attracted her. It was a powerful feeling to be needed by a man such as him. She knew other women could not have felt that. She doubted that Vegeta ever needed anyone in his entire life.

Before she could stop herself, Bulma was kneeling down in front of the sleeping Saiyan. She let out a sigh as her awareness ran with her thoughts.

Vegeta's eyes snapped open, and his face immediately hardened to its normal state. As his stare focused on her, his lip curled in a sneer of disgust.

Bulma swallowed and gave him a faint smile. His eyes were ablaze with hatred. She lowered her eyes. She guessed that she had pushed him a little too far earlier in the day. She watched as shallow, controlled breaths were taken by the man, his chest raising a miniscule amount with each intake. Control was on the forefront of his mind.

"The console is fixed."

He continued to glare at her. His eyes didn't break from hers, and she slowly brought them back to be overtaken by his penetrating stare. She could decipher his feelings easily: at the moment, the man despised her. His hate was palpable. She was tired of receiving this potent emotion from him.

Bringing her eyebrows together in frustration, she said, "You could thank me, you know!"

Before she could react, she felt his hand flash to her throat. Her body slammed into the side of the building with a dull thud. Her body and mind reeled in shock from his quick retaliation. His lips were next to her ear. In cold and curt words, he spat, "I owe you nothing."

Bulma's body began to quiver. The pain from her neck was devastating. Fear enveloped her. She brought her hands to his wrists and clawed desperately. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Bulma began to panic as she realized she couldn't breathe. Tears began to pool in her eyes and cascade down her face. She stared at her surroundings unable to focus on any one thing as her vision began to blur.

Then just as quickly as he had grabbed her, he released her. Bulma collapsed in a heap on the ground. With hands bracing her body above the grass, she loudly stole air into her lungs. She coughed deeply and slowly her throat recovered slightly from the constraint.

She heard his deep voice above her. "I suggest you keep your distance, woman."

Bulma stared at the bright green grass until he quietly walked away. She sat up slowly and wiped the tears from her face. She was mortified and shocked.

He had threatened her often. Like a feral beast, she knew his first response to being cornered was violence. He had been aggressive in the past, but he had never intentionally injured her. She brought a hand to her neck and winced at the touch.

Vegeta's attack seemed unprovoked. _Why had he done it?_ She questioned herself. But she didn't spend too long dwelling on why, the why didn't matter. She focused more of her attention on that he had actually attacked her. Some part of her always thought that he had too much pride to attack someone so weak. She had obviously been wrong.

As she walked down the hallway to her bedroom, her stomach began to clench tightly in response to his betrayal. She remembered the flash of concern that came across his eyes when the gravity initiated with her in the room. How he had clung to her and sheltered her body from possible injury. The admiration she had often seen skirt across his face when he looked at her. The obvious fulfillment he would gain from their arguments. Her breath hitched in her sore throat.

Bulma wouldn't allow herself to question why he had done it. The only fact that was important was that he had done it. He had finally proven how dangerous he really was to her. It didn't matter if it was a defense mechanism, a result of extreme exhaustion, or a misjudgment of strength.

Vegeta had attacked her. That was the only thought that went through her mind as she trudged to her room, climbed into bed and pulled the sheets over her curled up frame.

* * *

When she woke, Bulma hoped what had happened had just been a dream. But staring at her reflection, she was immediately reminded that it wasn't a dream. Her neck was hued a deep purple. The skin was sensitive and merely bending her neck caused pain. She leaned into her image and saw her eyes were flecked with tiny dots of blood.

Bulma hunched inwards as she looked down at her sink. She was one of _those_ girls. It had never entered her mind that she would get involved with someone that would hurt a woman.

When she thought how she felt about the Saiyan a sickening feeling began to tingle in her stomach. She lowered to the cold tile floor clutching her small frame. She hunched on the floor with her feet crossed in front of her and stared at the grout between the tiles. She could feel her face twisting in aguish as she tried to calm her sweeping emotions.

She extended her hand to scrap the grout with her thumb nail. The rough material tore at her nail. Apparently, she needed to 'keep her distance' from the temperamental man.

She realized that she had trusted Vegeta. She hadn't trusted him not to attack Goku or not to kill again. But she had trusted him not to hurt her. In fact, she had been counting on the man to protect her. She ran a hand through her hair, and her nails scrapped her scalp roughly.

Bulma had been wrong. But had she been wrong about his growing attachment to her? Hadn't he just been giving her a longing look when she approached him from the pool? Hadn't they just shared a kiss before the gravity room injury?

Her whole body stiffened and her teeth clenched together. The realization which seemed so victorious the day before was impending doom today. He would never relinquish his gravity room and therefore, he would always need her. She swallowed the thick bile that threatened to rise into her mouth. She could taste its acidic sting.

She reached one hand up and grasped the sink. Pulling herself to a standing position, she looked intently at her reflection. She ignored the vicious bruise and focused her stare on one bright blue eye. She took deep breaths causing her chest to puff out and deflate in exaggerated motions. She narrowed her eyes into slits of blue fire. She mounted her courage to the best of her ability.

Vegeta was a predator and an experienced one. His time as a mercenary had taught him some nasty habits. If she appeared weak, he would always be there to take advantage of it. He would back her further into the corner. He would demand and threaten until she was cowering in fear and obeying his every wish.

Bulma was not _that_ woman. She wasn't the type to get beaten; she was the type to get back up and fight. She would fight to the death, and she would never let him break her.

* * *

His muscles automatically tightened in the knowledge that he was being watched. Vegeta could sense someone's eyes on him. He felt the tickle of a miniscule ki which was emanating from her balcony.

He imagined her hitched breath and look of terror as she peeked at him. Her small form huddled behind her long dark drapes. He felt the surge of victory rush through his body. It made him feel powerful and in control. It was him and not the cowering little female that had the authority. He pushed the minute poking of his conscious far into the corner of his thoughts. There was no regret. The Prince of Saiyans does not regret.

Instead he embraced the excitement that shot through his body. He loved to dominate. To overpower such a weak creature shouldn't have given him so much pleasure, but he reveled in it. Fear would get her to comply with his wishes. And if she was cowering in fear, he wouldn't have to play her ridiculous relationship game.

He hadn't meant to grip her so fiercely or push against her so roughly. He hadn't even foreseen grabbing her. But she was treacherous, and his animalistic subconscious had responded. His instinct had taken over, and Vegeta took great pride in his Saiyan instinct. So far, it hadn't led him wrong. In fact it had kept him alive in many perilous circumstances. And he had no doubt in his mind that the woman was beginning to pose a dangerous situation for him.

Vegeta didn't acknowledge her. He continued to the kitchen to accept the meal he knew the older woman had already prepared. What had happened would have most likely been enough to frighten away the human.

When he entered the room, the woman was already there, leaning against the counter talking idly with her mother. His eyes were immediately drawn to the wispy cloth wrapped around her neck. As a breeze came through the open windows, part of the cloth danced behind her lethargically.

She ignored him as her mother greeted him. She flipped her hair from a shoulder as he took his seat to eat. Her frame was tight; he could easily sense the fear she was trying to hide. As he ate, he found his eyes being drawn to her neck. He was mesmerized by what was hidden beneath. With morbid fascination, he wanted to see the result of his violence.

The entire time he ate, he stared intently at her neck. He hoped to gain a glimpse of the dark bruise he was sure she was hiding. He noticed her eyes flickering to him. He smirked as she lifted her nose to the air in pride. He felt the urge to bait her into a battle, but caught himself. He should be cutting her out of his everyday life, not seeking further involvement.

Vegeta dragged his eyes begrudgingly to his forearm. He forced himself to concentrate on the deep cut there, on the blood that trickled down the side of his arm. He should be focusing on his training and not on the woman's reaction to the night before.

He heard the gasp of the older woman before she spoke in a high pitched and concerned voice. "Oh my, you're bleeding!" He looked up at her in a mask of apathy. She turned to her daughter and leadingly said, "He needs someone to tend to that."

Vegeta couldn't help but decipher the underlying hint the woman was aiming towards. He narrowed his eyes at her interference. He could barely believe that any mother would provoke her daughter to get involved with a man like him.

But her daughter didn't jump at the chance to help him as she had done before. She turned to face the counter and grabbing a sweat glossed glass, she said, "He can take care of himself, Mom."

She tried to drink from her glass in composed apathy, but winced while tipping her head back. Although he would never admit it, Vegeta actually respected her courage. She had forced herself to face him so soon after his assault. She was trying to show him that she was unaffected by him.

Her mother was looking at her shocked. "Yes," she twisted her head to look into her daughter's eyes. "But wouldn't it be nice to give it a woman's touch." She ended her sentence with a suggestive wink.

The woman slammed down her drink and through clenched teeth said, "Mom, give it a break."

The older woman's mouth formed a perfect circle. She looked apologetically to Vegeta and then back to her daughter in concern.

Vegeta had seen enough to convince him that the woman would indeed leave him to his own devices. He stood from the table and ignored the two women whose attention he had grabbed. But as he exited the home, he heard her follow. He listened to the soft footfalls behind him as he continued on his path to the gravity room.

Once they were both outside, she addressed him in a bold voice. "My father is taking over the maintenance of your training equipment."

Vegeta turned to face the woman. She was glaring at him with amazing force and trying to will him to accept her statement. Her face was hard, her arms stiff at her side, and he could hear each quick, stifled breath she took.

He closed the gap between them and noted the fear that entered her eyes. He smirked at her reaction, dropped his eyes to her neck and then back to her face. Her breathing had accelerated, but her face remained hard, her stance one of confidence. Rather than feeling pleasure at her signs of submission, his interest was drawn by her display of strength.

The feeble human stood before him, supposedly battered and bruised, refusing to bow down to him. The thrill caused by her retaliation raced through his body. He wanted further proof of her strength. He wanted to see what was hidden from him. His hand compulsively lifted and approached her slender neck.

He was wrenched from his daze as she slapped his bleeding forearm. She took a step back and commandingly said, "You're not allowed to touch." Her eyes no longer held fear, only anger.

Vegeta snarled at her interruption, and she quaked slightly in response. Fury boiled within him, but not because of the maintenance tradeoff. He was angered by her refusal. He would touch whatever he wished to touch.

In less than a second, he deftly captured her wrists and collected them behind her in one hand. She shrieked like a lunatic and tried to attack him with her legs. He was surprised by the satisfaction he felt from her attempt at defense. He stepped further into her squirming frame effectively stilling the woman.

He narrowed his eyes and tried to gauge her frame of mind. Her anger and confidence was melting into humiliation. She grimaced again as she turned her head from his intense glare. His eyes mechanically went to her neck.

With his free hand, he once again approached her slender neck. He saw fear poke out of the corner of her eye as she looked sideways at him with apprehension. For some indescribable reason, he was careful not to hurt her further as he pulled down the thin material. He felt her body stiffen as he barely grazed her purple skin. He circled his hand lightly around her neck, and she turned her head to face him. Her eyes had become pleading.

The look caused a ripple of excitement in the Saiyan. He tried to contain it and with clenched teeth, he threw back his head slightly. He took a deep breath and looked at the blue sky momentarily. Then returning his gaze to her neck, he slid his thumb to under her chin. He tilted her head slightly upward ignoring the confused look from the woman. He ran his thumb repetitively along the bone that framed her face. He then slid his fingers into her soft hair.

He was leaning into her smell. He wished to plunge his entire hand into her hair. He wanted her supple body to press against his. He closed his eyes as another powerful ripple of excitement attempted to take over his body.

He took another deep breath to calm himself, but received a large dose of her exotic aroma. He released her wrists and laid his hand flat against the small of her back. He pulled her against his frame ignoring her sounds of disapproval and her hands pushing against him. She felt soothingly cool next to his heated body. He watched her hair cascade through his fingers as he pulled them through her silky blue hair. He approved of her hair style change; the poof had too closely resembled her mother's hair.

He rested his hand on her shoulder and began to tug her shirt down her shoulder to revel the creamy skin near her neck. Vegeta leaned closer to her exposed skin. He watched the thudding of her pulse in her neck. He was disappointed by her discolored skin and silently reprimanded himself for marring her delicate neck. He would have to be more careful in the future. He drew her up closer into his body, her back arching into his hard abs.

Vegeta didn't care if she felt his excitement. He wanted her to know his intentions. He wanted another chance to prove that he could satisfy her. He wasn't thinking about his need to disengage her from his life or how she represented a threat to his sovereignty. At this moment, he wanted her, nothing else. He licked his lips in anticipation of tasting the delicate skin between her shoulder and neck. His awareness was focused on the sweet smell of fruit that emanated from her skin and hair.

A loud smack across his cheek pulled him from his revere. He reeled back, looked into her panicked eyes, down to their affixed bodies and immediately leaped away from the treacherous woman. As if she had been holding him in place, he barred his teeth in warning. He glared at her with distrust before turning to show her his back.

"Vegeta," she started with a firm but frightened tone. She was raking in full exasperated breaths.

He focused his attention on the green grass near his feet. His groin complained at the loss of contact but, he forced his sexual thoughts into submission. He clenched his fists as he chided himself for his thoughtless actions. Maybe his instincts didn't always lead him the right way.

"You can't," she took a loud, quick breath, "just grab me." He could practically hear her swallowing her fear. "It's scary."

"You should be scared."

"Well," she chuckled in discomfort. "I am."

Vegeta needed to distance himself from the woman. Without looking back he stalked to his gravity room to retreat within its oppressive comfort. Before the door slid shut, he heard the woman speaking to herself.

"Holy shit."

He couldn't agree more.

* * *

Sorry it took so long. I wanted to write a longer chapter. And thank you so much for your reviews! Gotta love the loyal followers!

A special thanks to onlinefisher. I definitely meant sweety not sweaty. Stupid spell checker. Bulma does take showers ;)


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